Tono MejutoNeighbourhood Unit

“The invisible union of every module, transparency invading glass surfaces raised to pure theory, fracturing the view of perspectives, multiplying angles: like that dogma of pop on the multiple image, the artistic exaltation of industry, the distortion of repeated objects. Foretelling an impossible desert, dreaming beyond lines of blocks of buildings, there is an unconscious scar that opens up on the moist skin of the Atlantic: a flare of Central European grey with its suicidal strike, its deep, earthly underbelly in our neutral spirit.

That navigation of buildings and the dreamlike invasion of vegetal shadows: reconstructing what the palm tree has usurped, what eyes do not see in the buildings, slowly exploring their guts. Here one can feel threatened by the total loss of identity, which sticks to another, superior, essence, opaque and violent. In the cosmos of the walls, the urgent blasphemes scrawled by the hand: declarations of love, laments of destitution, rage written down.

Curtains, unmistakably human. Personal symbols of their existence, where humans were perhaps an accident, force majeure. Foretelling the future defeat of symmetry sold by time, the old age of material surrendered.”